The Look of a Hobbit's Foot
by Unhobbity Hobbit
Summary: A look at a few moments in Gimli's life leading up to the finding of Pippin by way of his foot.


A/N: The first of these six little scenes is set before Gimli even embarks on the road to Rivendell and from there they progress through the quest. All dialogue at Isengard is from The Two Towers and the chapter entitled "The Road to Isengard" I didn't mean to use so much but it seemed to fit (and I do love it so).  
  
Enjoy!  
  
The Look of a Hobbit's Foot  
  
"Those hobbits! You've never seen stranger creatures. They are short, no taller than a dwarf whose beard is just starting to show. But they don't grow beards, no facial hair save for eyebrows. The hair on the top of their heads is always curly and we saw many curly heads of hair while we walked through the Shire and even more curly feet of hair!"  
  
"_Feet_ of hair uncle? What do you mean?"  
  
"They have hair on their feet! Not hairy feet like Oin has, oh no, the hair is as thick and curly as that on their head. And they never wear shoes! Nor boots, nor even slippers, the soles of their feet are thick and tough, they don't need shoes, never have I seen a hobbit don any kind of footwear though there is rumour that some do in wet weather." Gimli listened to his father with rapt attention, even though he'd heard the tale many times before, certainly more times than his cousin had.  
  
Gimli's attention wandered as he began thinking about the most odd aspect of the hobbits; their feet. His father said that they had five toes like any dwarven foot and were, in most aspects, the same as any other foot. The hair he found a little bemusing, the hobbits brushed it like they did the hair on their heads and apparently took great care in doing so. The soles of their feet amazed him the most though, they were leathery enough to not need any other protection and it made them, as far as he'd heard, a lot quieter than dwarves in their boots. Gimli looked at his foot, hobbits were very strange creatures.

* * *

Gimli sat in the council of Elrond beside his father. Half of his mind was concentrating on what was being said and the other half on the hobbits. He had seen the hobbits before but only briefly and they were usually sitting at a table or with something else blocking the view of their feet.  
  
Gimli gazed at the two, one was the infamous Bilbo Baggins, the one who'd saved his father's life from spiders and such as well as helping them reclaim the Lonely Mountain, something he was very much in debt of Bilbo for. The other was apparently in some way related to Bilbo, though they didn't look too similar, his name was Frodo Baggins and he had been ill up until now as far as Gimli could discern.  
  
His eyes travelled inexorably downwards until they came to the feet, the same feet he'd puzzled over ever since he'd heard stories of them as a young lad. They didn't look as odd as he thought they would, indeed, they seemed to fit the hobbits, strange as it may seem. On anyone else they would seem ridiculous, but not these two or, he imagined, any other hobbit.

* * *

They were still in Rivendell, awaiting the day when they would be ready to leave. Gimli had taken to strolling the corridors, mostly lost in thought. This was generally a safe practice as most of the inhabitants of Rivendell had the presence of mind to move out of your way. But not a certain two hobbits who came careering around the corner.  
  
"Oof! What a silly place to put a statue!" exclaimed one from the floor, rubbing his head.  
  
"That, Pippin, would be a dwarf." said the other, smiling apologetically at Gimli. The one on the floor whose name now appeared to be Pippin looked up at Gimli.  
  
"So it would! Dreadfully sorry that I ran into you, we thought the place was empty, we can usually see elves walking along here you see but, well, you're not an elf and we couldn't see you." the hobbit rubbed the back of his head again. "This floor isn't half hard! Would you mind giving me a hand up?" Gimli offered his hand wordlessly and it was taken. "I think I stubbed my toe as well, ow." So their toes could still be stubbed, no amount of thick skin could stop that, Gimli supposed.  
  
"Serves you right for running indoors!" said the hobbit whose name was unknown as of yet.  
  
"Says you, oh Meriadoc the shining example!" laughed Pippin.  
  
"Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a race to win!" said the one whose name was now known as Meriadoc.  
  
"Half a pouch of Old Toby says you don't!" cried Pippin, "Three, two, one, GO!" and they rushed off. Gimli stood for a moment, slightly shocked by the sudden encounter. How had they made it as far as Rivendell? They weren't really what you'd call hardened travellers. It was probably just as well that they weren't going any further.

* * *

"I'm telling you! There is a thorn in my foot!" Merry was balancing on one foot, one arm over Sam's shoulders and the other over Pippin's. Frodo was examining the foot Merry was refusing to walk on. The rest of the fellowship were watching.  
  
"Well I can't see it."  
  
"That's because it's not there, it's in between my toes!"  
  
"Alright, alright, no need to shout! Which toes?"  
  
"The big one. Ow! Don't move it like that, that hurts!" Frodo dropped the foot and looked up at Merry.  
  
"Look, I think we're going to need Legolas because I certainly can't see it!" Gimli decided that he'd much rather help the hobbits than watch Legolas do it so he volunteered himself. The hobbits accepted.  
  
Gimli removed his gloves and knelt in front of Merry. He lifted the offending foot up and looked at it closely. The sole felt leathery as he'd imagined it but the hair was softer than he'd originally thought. He carefully separated the big toe from the other toes and he spied in the softer skin a small dark spot. He brushed a finger over it, it was protruding from the skin and caused Merry pain so he deduced that this was what he was looking for. He gripped it between his fingernails and pulled it out. Merry snatched his foot back and rubbed it.  
  
"All that fuss over that tiny thing!" said Sam "Mr. Merry, you should be ashamed of yourself!" Pippin laughed and Merry ignored them both. He put his foot on the ground and wiggled his toes.  
  
"Much better, many thanks for your services Gimli, may your beard grow ever longer!"

* * *

There, sitting on the broken walls of Isengard, who should it be but those confounded hobbits! The same hobbits he'd been chasing since Amon Hen. Sitting, or rather, lying, half-asleep with rather large smiles on their faces. They looked as though they'd had quite an enjoyable time! Merry jumped up and blew out a last bit of smoke, smoking! They had been smoking!  
  
He turned to face the company that had rode in fresh for the battle at Helm's Deep and bowed before Theoden and Eomer. Not one bit of recognition for those who had worried and fretted over them ever since the orcs took them! Merry bowed low, low enough to sweep the ground with his hand.  
  
"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he declared. "We are the doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc is my name; and my companion, who, alas! Is overcome with weariness," He nudged Pippin with his foot, that hobbity foot of his. Overcome with weariness! Overcome with too much ale and good food more like! "Is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took. Far in the North is our home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be here to welcome such honourable guests."  
  
Gimli was overcome, he was holding himself together, trying not to burst out and yell at the two and hit them over the head with the handle of his axe for causing so much worry and pain. Or refraining from just running up to them and holding them tight to make sure they never went out of his sight again. He wasn't sure which he wanted to do most. He missed much of what was said while doing this until he could control himself no longer.  
  
"And what about your companions? What about Legolas and me?" he burst out. "You rascals, you woolly-footed and wool-pated truants! A fine hunt you have led us! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling – and smoking! Smoking! Where did you come by the weed you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between joy and rage that if I do not burst it will be a marvel!" There, he had said it. But joy and rage aside, he was happy to have found them.

* * *

Gimli was running over dead bodies of orcs and men. Where was it Pippin had last been seen? Who had seen him fall? He looked hither and thither but saw nothing that would mark where a hobbit had been. Last time he was searching for, or perhaps chasing was a better word, Pippin there had been a clear trail and clues left behind. But now it was down to luck, luck and what meagre skills Gimli had at tracking and spotting hobbits.  
  
His eyes swept the ground in front of him but there was nothing, not a single sign. His head snapped up as he heard a hoarse cry, could it be Pippin? He hoped beyond hope that it was, he dared not think what Merry would do if it weren't. He ran in the direction of the noise. But no, it was a Gondorian man looking pleadingly up at him and in obvious pain. Gimli couldn't leave him here, but he couldn't give up on Pippin, once again, he was torn.  
  
He helped the man stand; his leg had been caught under the stinking carcase of a troll. Gimli let the man lean on him as he hobbled back towards the healer's tents. He was not too badly injured but he needed help walking. Gimli glanced over his shoulder in one last attempt to look for Pippin. Nothing, just more orc bodies and even various body parts. It was a gruesome sight to say the least; an arm here, a foot there... Gimli stopped, a foot! A naked pink foot! He looked again. It was still there, a foot! Who else would go onto a battlefield with no footwear if not a hobbit?  
  
He turned and ran back to the troll, causing the man he had been supporting to stumble, but Gimli didn't heed him. He took hold of the foot, the skin was leathery as he remembered Merry's being and there was hair, matted and dirty but it was hair. A hobbit's foot! Oh blessed valar, it was a hobbit's foot! He had found Pippin! He heaved with all his might, his strength had grown through desperation and even more worry. Slowly the huge body shifted to reveal Pippin, a bloodied and bruised Pippin, but still Pippin. Gently, he lifted the lifeless from the ground, not wanting to believe that even a troll could squeeze the life out of Peregrin Took and he bore him away to the healers.  
  
Were it not for Gimli the Dwarf, Pippin would have been lost then and he said of it later "At least I know now the look of a hobbit's foot."  
  
FIN 


End file.
